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Chapter 01: Does Miss Shu Not Like Condor?
Chapter 01: Does Miss Shu Not Like Condor?
Condor Feld Cornwall International Airport.
A bustling, crowded airport with a mix of scents, yet for some reason, Zhen Ning always felt it exuded an aura of vast emptiness and desolation.
As she disembarked from the plane, Zhen Ning glanced up at the long stretch of sky beyond the glass windows.
Outside the massive terminal building, the sky was high and the clouds were sparse, the clear blue expanse stretching endlessly. In the distance lay the Fanlu Mountain range, with a faint pink cloud floating at its edge.
This was Condor in October.
Zhen Ning flipped her passport to the page with the visa sticker. The English annotation for entry visitors was stamped in deep purple ink, and above it was a flower-shaped seal from the immigration office—a pattern representing the renowned Zhanjin Flower of the Moselan Monarchic Republic.
Moselan, with its capital city Condor, had been named one of the top fifty most desirable travel destinations by National Geographic. Travel brochures described it as: “A country rich in oil and flowers, a paradise blessed by the gods, a fairy-tale land existing in the 21st century.”
Because her mother was from Moselan, Zhen Ning had visited the country several times with her family. Each visit left her feeling particularly relaxed and at ease.
The line at customs moved slowly forward, and finally, it was her turn. She handed over her passport, and the officer behind the glass window stamped it before giving her a professional yet warm smile: “Welcome to Moselan.”
Zhen Ning responded with a brisk and easygoing laugh: “Thank you.”
The flight from Langman to Condor took over two hours, but upon landing, Zhen Ning still felt energetic, showing no signs of fatigue from the journey. She enjoyed flying. Since high school, she had traveled alone to the UK for her studies, enduring long-haul flights each year. Yet, she never found them boring and always looked forward to each trip.
Except for the time she returned home after graduating from university.
That time, she was feeling down, so recklessly spent all her savings on a first-class ticket. After boarding, she started drinking, got herself drunk, and passed out. When the plane landed, the flight attendants came to check if she needed assistance, but she was actually wide awake. She collected her luggage herself, stomped hard at the exit to leave all her frustrations behind, and saw her third brother waiting for her outside the airport hall. He carried her, still tipsy, back home.
But that was all in the past.
She dragged her luggage out and soon spotted a sign with her name on it. A girl with long hair and brown skin jumped up and waved enthusiastically: “Miss Shu!”
It was Eileen, her cousin’s assistant, who had come to pick her up. Zhen Ning was here to attend her cousin Ji Xuan’s wedding. Ji Xuan, her aunt’s daughter, was a flutist in the Moselan Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.
Eileen helped her push the suitcase, and they got into the car. As they drove toward the city, Eileen asked, “Has Miss Shu been to Moselan before?”
Zhen Ning nodded.
Eileen chatted with her while driving. People in this country had a natural warmth and cheerfulness.
After forty minutes, they reached the city center. They drove through tree-lined avenues where flocks of pigeons fluttered around the fountains. The setting sun illuminated a row of golden palace rooftops, creating a solemn and dazzling sight—the majestic Golden Palace shimmering against the sunset.
“Miss Shu, that’s the Carla Palace,” Eileen proudly pointed out the window.
“Mm, beautiful,” Zhen Ning tilted her head slightly to look out the window. Above the palace hung the monarch’s flag—a white lion on a blue shield—indicating that the king was currently working inside the palace.
The car stopped at a red light on Regent Avenue. Eileen glanced over and noticed the neighboring girl’s somewhat melancholic gaze. Feeling a bit disheartened, she asked, “Does Miss Shu not like Condor?”
Zhen Ning paused, then patted her shoulder and smiled, saying, “Eileen, I once liked a boy from your country.”
Eileen’s eyes widened with curiosity: “Really? What happened afterward?” Zhen Ning shrugged: “He didn’t choose me. He left.”
That night, at the bachelorette party, Ji Xuan held Zhen Ning’s hand and laughed, introducing her: “Ladies, this is my cousin, Shu Zhen Ning.”
Zhen Ning was tall and slim, with a delicate and spirited face. Her appearance and demeanor were quite different from her cousin’s, but the artists from Ji Xuan’s orchestra still teased playfully: “Ji Xuan, turns out your little sister is even more beautiful than you.”
Ji Xuan raised an eyebrow and replied confidently, “Say what you want; I’m getting married anyway.” Everyone burst into laughter.
The next day’s wedding ceremony was solemn and perfect. Guests attended the traditional church wedding in the city district, then returned to the hotel to rest before the evening banquet.
Zhen Ning took a nap in the afternoon and then sat leisurely at the café in the hotel garden. As night fell, she got up and headed back to her room. Passing through the grand hall with the spiral staircase, she noticed several sound engineers testing a piano. The night’s festivities were just beginning.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Without drawing attention, she glanced around and lightly pressed the screen to silence the call. Moving to a quieter spot, she answered softly: “Hello?”
“Luli,” came a man’s voice, distorted through a voice changer, completely unrecognizable.
Upon hearing the name, Zhen Ning’s muscles instantly tensed. Carefully observing her surroundings, she kept her voice steady: “Yes.” As she spoke, she turned and walked toward the suite upstairs.
The voice on the other end said, “There may be trouble tonight at the Carla Palace.”
Zhen Ning’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly responded, “Details?”
“No concrete information yet. It’s urgent. You have a temporary mission.”
Zhen Ning entered the hotel room, closed the door, removed her coral earrings, and slipped on a black trench coat. With one hand, she swiftly tightened the belt around her waist.
Minutes later, a car sped out of the hotel, heading straight for the municipal avenue.
Zhen Ning sat firmly in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with focus, her foot pressing hard on the accelerator. She raced through the streets until she finally crossed the municipal square, catching sight of the distant cluster of golden palace rooftops.
The Carla Palace at night was vastly different from its daytime appearance. The immense palace complex stood eerily silent under the cover of darkness.
A vehicle slowly approached the gates from the main avenue—it belonged to the royal kitchen supervisor. Soldiers in black uniforms came forward to inspect credentials. A pupil scanner emitted a crisp “beep” aimed at the driver. Tonight, the soldiers seemed unusually tense, hurriedly waving the vehicle through.
The car entered the palace grounds and stopped at the entrance of the royal banquet hall. The driver’s monotone voice was low: “I’ll wait here for you.”
A figure silently slipped out of the rear door and disappeared into the roadside rose garden. A slender shadow darted past, vanishing into the night.
Zhen Ning moved with the agility of a cat, quietly traversing the corridors and entering the west wing of the palace where the king resided.
The entire palace was unnervingly quiet, even the royal attendants downstairs seemed to have vanished. Deep within the palace walls, faint shadows flickered in the distance. Zhen Ning mentally reviewed the map of the king’s chambers, quickly reversed her steps, and sprinted up the stairs along the wall. She pushed open the door to the room.
Zhen Ning swiftly scanned the interior. The entire bedchamber was in disarray—every cabinet was open, the exquisite crystal chandelier dangerously tilted, tea sets overturned on the carpet, velvet curtains torn down. Her gaze froze on the man lying beneath the curtains, her breath catching sharply.
Zhen Ning rushed to the man sprawled on the carpet, knelt on the floor, and extended her fingers to check his pulse. His heartbeat was rapid—he was alive. Zhen Ning urgently asked, “Your Majesty, where is Princess?”
The man’s luxurious silk robe was crumpled into a heap, his face twisted in pain. With the last of his strength, he pointed to a wall behind the sofa.
Zhen Ning quickly jumped onto the sofa and inspected the wall. It was covered with expensive wallpaper, but when she tapped on it, she realized it was hollow.
She jumped down and began moving the sofa. The heavy Italian walnut furniture was difficult to budge, but Zhen Ning, gritting her teeth, managed to create a small gap. She squeezed through, using her shoulder to force open the hidden door.
Inside was a small, dimly lit chamber. Through the faint light, Zhen Ning saw a girl dressed in a crescent-white lace nightgown. The girl’s eyes were closed, as if asleep, and the noise from Zhen Ning breaking in hadn’t woken her. Zhen Ning leaned down to check her—her breathing and temperature were normal; she was merely unconscious. Zhen Ning quickly picked her up and carried her back to her father’s side.
Zhen Ning examined the king again. There were no obvious external injuries on his body, but his face was dark, and there was an unfamiliar bluish liquid at the corner of his mouth. Kneeling down, Zhen Ning lifted his head: “Your Majesty?”
The man’s scattered gaze flickered slightly upon seeing her.
His throat seemed torn, emitting a choking sound: “Are you the youngest daughter of the Feng family?”
Zhen Ning nodded: “Are there any of your guards still in the palace?”
The king gave a bitter smile: “They’ve cleaned everything…” Zhen Ning’s mind raced: “I’ll try to get you out of here.” The king shook his head: “Take Ping Ce and go…”
He handed her a seal, his pupils slowly dilating, his voice barely a whisper: “Give this to your father. I’ve already signed the abdication papers. As long as Ping Ce is safe, everything…”
Before he could finish, he took his last breath.
This monarch, who had ascended the throne in the late 1970s and led Moselan’s successful transformation into a prosperous modern nation during the 1980s global market economy, only to lose public support in recent years due to indulging royal extravagance and protecting the monopolistic interests of aristocratic families during economic reforms, had met a tragic and abrupt end.
Zhen Ning carried Princess Ping Ce, circling around the long windows at the back of the room. Standing in the shadow of the columns, she carefully observed her surroundings before swiftly moving along the palace corridor, hugging the walls.
From outside came the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a soft “puff”—the sound of a silenced handgun firing.
The intruders were getting closer.
In the darkness, Zhen Ning ran wildly, holding a teenage girl in her arms. Her breathing grew heavier, and as she climbed over the railing of the west wing, she nearly fell, but managed to grab hold of a pillar just in time.
Finally, she returned to the banquet hall, where the black car was still parked.
The guards at the entrance of the Carla Palace stood sternly, showing no signs of anything unusual. The vehicle paused briefly at the gate, and the guard saluted crisply.
Compared to the elaborate changing-of-the-guard performances for tourists, that salute was far too sharp.
The black sedan silently drove out of the Carla Palace, passing through the brightly lit tourist area and stopping in a small alley on the east side of the municipal square.
Zhen Ning got out of the car with Ping Ce and returned to the car she had driven earlier. The man accompanying her said nothing, opening the door for them and closing it once they were inside.
Zhen Ning nodded solemnly at the man in the rearview mirror, then floored the accelerator. The car turned around and sped toward the northern district of Condor. Ping Ce woke up in the front passenger seat, and Zhen Ning gave her a reassuring smile: “Dear, your daddy has run into trouble. We need to take you somewhere safe.”
Fear flickered in Ping Ce’s innocent eyes, but she remained quiet.
After half an hour of driving, they entered the outskirts of Condor. Zhen Ning glanced at the red marker on the navigation system. In the glow of the headlights, the brown stone gates of the golf club became visible at the end of the road.
Zhen Ning honked the horn—once long, twice short—and the golf course gates opened silently. She accelerated and drove in, stopping near a two-story building deep within the course. Flashlights darted chaotically from the rooftop.
The roar of helicopter rotors filled the air.
Zhen Ning held Ping Ce’s hand and walked inside. On the second-floor helipad to the west, a helicopter was already revving its engine.
A man jumped down from the helicopter: “Hey, Zhen Ning!” Zhen Ning hadn’t expected to meet someone familiar: “Dai Na!”
Dai Na was a close friend of her eldest brother. She hadn’t seen him in years—they were both busy with their respective missions and rarely crossed paths.
Dai Na took Ping Ce from her: “Hey, we’ve got to go.”
Zhen Ning nodded, subtly slipping the king’s seal into Dai Na’s coat pocket. Dai Na gave her a knowing nod.
Zhen Ning pressed her cheek against the princess’s and whispered: “Take care, sweetheart.”
Ping Ce clung tightly to Zhen Ning’s hand, her body trembling slightly with fear.
Zhen Ning quickly hugged her, then let go, comforting her: “Don’t worry, Uncle Dai Na will take care of you.”
Back at the Condor Intercontinental Hotel, the lights shone brilliantly in the night.
Before getting out of the car, Zhen Ning quickly removed her gloves, peeled off her shoe covers, and took off her coat, stuffing them into her bag. Beneath, she wore gray trousers and a white shirt.
After exiting the car, Zhen Ning bent down to thoroughly inspect it, ensuring no trace was left behind. She gently nudged the door shut with her elbow.
The tall, elegant woman stepped gracefully into the hotel’s central glass elevator.
Zhen Ning glanced at her watch—it was 10:02 PM local time. The glass elevator ascended, and from higher up, she could see the dazzling lights in the distance. Rows of flashing police cars sped past on the nearby highway.
After returning to her room to change into her evening gown, Zhen Ning entered the banquet hall. The attendant checked her invitation, then opened the doors to the banquet hall. The lively music and chatter immediately spilled out. The guard smiled: “Good evening, madam.”
Zhen Ning calmly adjusted her hair, smiling as she walked in.
The bride was in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by guests. Zhen Ning casually picked up a glass of wine and sat down. The crisp sparkling wine spread a subtle sweetness across her lips and tongue, and she gradually relaxed.
Just as she finished her first glass, commotion broke out in the hallway outside. Muffled screams were quickly silenced, followed by the heavy, synchronized footsteps of soldiers approaching the hall.
The banquet hall doors were pushed wide open, and all the crystal chandeliers on the ceiling were switched on. The previously dim and intimate atmosphere was suddenly flooded with bright light, momentarily blinding the guests.
The sound of military boots echoed from the depths of the corridor, growing louder as they approached. Soldiers filed into the banquet hall in perfect formation, their weapons gleaming coldly under the harsh light, reflecting off the large bouquets of white roses on the banquet tables.
A gentleman in uniform politely addressed the crowd: “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please forgive the interruption.”
A middle-aged man in a tuxedo, smoking a pipe, greeted the officer: “Captain Yi She, what’s going on?”
The captain turned his gaze toward the speaker, tipping his hat slightly in respect: “Good evening, Lord Bor. This is a temporary mobilization. We are assisting the police department with official duties. Please remain in the hall for inspection.”
The music had stopped, and under the soldiers’ direction, the guests lined up.
Zhen Ning calmly set down her glass and followed the other women toward the center of the hall. Keeping her head low, she avoided the gaze of the Moselan soldiers. Silently, she calculated the timing in her mind. Judging by the scale of the search, the princess should have temporarily evaded pursuit.
Zhen Ning quietly stayed at the back of the crowd, discreetly observing the hall, including every emergency exit and the layout of the hotel corridors. Suddenly, one of the nearby soldiers’ eyes flickered, and Zhen Ning’s gaze shifted accordingly. For a moment, she froze, then straightened her back sharply.
The next instant, Zhen Ning abruptly looked up, staring wide-eyed at the entrance of the banquet hall.
A tall man was slowly walking in through the doorway. Behind the two rows of neatly aligned soldiers, a cold, piercing gaze swept across the room like lightning.
Zhen Ning caught that piercing gaze almost instantly. Her breathing quickened.
The guests at the front of the line were being checked one by one by the soldiers. It was finally her turn.
The officer who had spoken earlier stepped forward and noticed the girl standing alone in front of the champagne tower. She wore a lilac chiffon dress, her short hair delicate and elegant, with her slender shoulders slightly exposed.
He saluted Zhen Ning and said in a matter-of-fact tone: “My apologies, miss. Please raise your hands and turn around.”
Zhen Ning completely ignored him, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed beyond the soldiers. Ji Xuan called out to her anxiously from across the room: “Sister!”
Captain Yi She took a step forward, his expression turning stern: “Miss?”
At that moment, a deep voice spoke, calm and measured, in Moselan’s traditional language, Zongmi: “Yi She, it’s fine.”
The sound of his voice sent a shiver through Zhen Ning’s gaze.
Yi She immediately stopped his actions, and the soldiers stepped back, revealing the young man standing behind the crowd.
It was early autumn, and he wore a khaki-colored lightweight trench coat. Tall and slim, with brown ankle boots, he wasn’t in formal military attire—there were no insignias on his coat—but the cold, sharp aura emanating from him unmistakably marked him as a military leader. Though his complexion was pale for a soldier, his hard-edged features and resolute demeanor spoke volumes.
Zhen Ning’s body began to tremble slightly but she quickly brought it under control. She simply stood there, motionless, staring at him with an abrupt and angry gaze. Even the guards beside the man noticed, shifting their stance defensively and stepping in front of him.
At first, Zhen Ning doubted whether she had mistaken him, until she heard his voice.
His familiar voice cut through time, low and magnetic, yet tinged with a strange sharpness that felt jarringly unfamiliar. It struck her like a sudden, violent nail piercing her body, pinning down her most vulnerable bone, rendering her immobile.
He had spoken to her in Chinese, in English, but never in Zongmi. Yet his voice—she could never forget it.
In a daze, the air thickened into a fog-like haze, pressing in on her. She vaguely recalled—it was a rainy afternoon after a storm at Nuffield College Library. The dark wooden table was cool to the touch, lined with long rows of bookshelves behind her. The air carried the distinct scent of the library. She had been flipping through a detective novel, dozing off, and eventually fell asleep on his arm.
When she woke up, she heard this same voice, laced with a hint of amusement: “Wake up, you’ve drooled all over my shirt.”
This identity, this grand entrance—it felt like a surreal dream. Zhen Ning had seen him without a smile before, but never had she seen him look so severe, so cutting.
The lead officer turned and stepped back, saluting him and delivering a quiet report: “Your Highness, everything here is clear.”
The man listened, his face grim as he scanned the room. His gaze lingered on nothing, nodded briefly, then turned and strode away.
Zhen Ning stood frozen for a moment, watching as the military personnel left. She bit her lip, anger surging through her, and slammed her hand hard against the table.
The stacked glasses on the table clattered loudly.
An older woman nearby quickly steadied Zhen Ning’s arm and asked: “Dear, are you alright? Would you like a drink?”
Zhen Ning accepted the glass of brandy handed to her and gulped it down. The hall returned to its opulent ambiance, guests resumed their hushed conversations, and the band began to play again.
Zhen Ning sat in the dim corner behind the table. Nearby, a group of girls gathered, whispering and giggling. They spoke flawless British English, likely daughters of nobility in the city. Their conversation drifted faintly—
“What just happened?”
“Who knows? But who was that handsome man?”
“Captain Yi She? He’s quite the heartthrob among the ladies.”
One girl teased coyly: “Really? What about the mysterious man behind him? Who was he?”
“The Crown Prince?”
“Who?”
Another girl giggled, feigning mystery: “You haven’t seen him, have you? Let me tell you…”
She leaned in close to her companion’s ear and whispered conspiratorially.
“It’s him!” A suppressed shriek escaped.
The girl covered her mouth and laughed: “Don’t even think about seducing him. He’s the chosen one, the nation’s most precious man. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—no girl in all of Moselan can win him over. His temper is notoriously bad.”
Zhen Ning’s hand trembled, causing the amber liquid in her glass to ripple slightly. She had heard them.
The Crown Prince they referred to was Bochin Dovear in full, a key member of the cabinet led by Prime Minister Major and a senior general in the Moselan Royal Air Force Command.
The current royal family of Moselan had few heirs. King Tuo Mo IV had only one daughter, Princess Ping Ce, while Prince Geoffrey’s two sons were still minors. Beyond them, the only ones addressed as “Your Highness” were the adult sons of the Duwoer noble family.
She remembered her days at Ford College, where everyone simply called him “Du.” Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he belonged to such a prestigious and illustrious family name.
Zhen Ning knew this surname, of course—but she had no idea it belonged to the ordinary Asian classmate in plaid shirts who struggled with essays, the boy she had once liked at Ford.
He was a damn liar.
Glass after glass, Zhen Ning drank, growing slightly tipsy. Memories flooded her mind, scene after scene. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again.
That winter in London had been bitterly cold. She had returned from Scotland to find their apartment spotlessly clean, like the River Cherwell after a snowfall. In a daze, she spent more than a week before finally accepting the fact that he had vanished without a trace.
For much of their acquaintance, Zhen Ning had never paid attention to his identity. At first, she even thought he might be of Chinese descent—there were many wealthy Chinese descendants in Moselan—and he spoke fluent Chinese. It wasn’t until she saw the Land Rover with British royal plates picking him up that doubts began to creep in.
Only once, when she pressed him relentlessly, did he finally admit: “I can’t guarantee the future.”
Zhen Ning finally asked: “Who are you?”
At the time, he indulged her wild guesses, neither confirming nor denying.
It wasn’t entirely unexpected—when he was so guarded about his true identity, Zhen Ning had already suspected something. But his sudden departure severed all ties.
Later, Zhen Ning wondered if he had known he would leave her soon and let her act out as a result. On second thought, perhaps he hadn’t even recognized her tonight—he’d probably forgotten her entirely.
Zhen Ning chuckled bitterly at herself.
At 1:00 AM, Zhen Ning left the banquet. Despite the minor disruption, the attending artists seemed largely unaffected, and the party remained lively. She ascended the stairs slowly, always striving to stay composed, though tonight she had made an exception and drunk heavily.
As she stepped onto the spiral escalator, she glanced back. The grand hall was a decadent scene of wilting flowers and clinking glasses, a lavish spectacle of fading splendor.
Perhaps this country would change drastically by morning, yet tonight, people remained lost in their dreams. The phone in her hotel room rang just after 4:00 AM.
Zhen Ning caught that piercing gaze almost instantly. Her breathing quickened.
The guests at the front of the line were being checked one by one by the soldiers. It was finally her turn.
The officer who had spoken earlier stepped forward and noticed the girl standing alone in front of the champagne tower. She wore a lilac chiffon dress, her short hair delicate and elegant, with her slender shoulders slightly exposed.
He saluted Zhen Ning and said in a matter-of-fact tone: “My apologies, miss. Please raise your hands and turn around.”
Zhen Ning completely ignored him, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed beyond the soldiers. Ji Xuan called out to her anxiously from across the room: “Sister!”
Captain Yi She took a step forward, his expression turning stern: “Miss?”
At that moment, a deep voice spoke, calm and measured, in Moselan’s traditional language, Zongmi: “Yi She, it’s fine.”
The sound of his voice sent a shiver through Zhen Ning’s gaze.
Yi She immediately stopped his actions, and the soldiers stepped back, revealing the young man standing behind the crowd.
It was early autumn, and he wore a khaki-colored lightweight trench coat. Tall and slim, with brown ankle boots, he wasn’t in formal military attire—there were no insignias on his coat—but the cold, sharp aura emanating from him unmistakably marked him as a military leader. Though his complexion was pale for a soldier, his hard-edged features and resolute demeanor spoke volumes.
Zhen Ning’s body began to tremble slightly but she quickly brought it under control. She simply stood there, motionless, staring at him with an abrupt and angry gaze. Even the guards beside the man noticed, shifting their stance defensively and stepping in front of him.
At first, Zhen Ning doubted whether she had mistaken him, until she heard his voice.
His familiar voice cut through time, low and magnetic, yet tinged with a strange sharpness that felt jarringly unfamiliar. It struck her like a sudden, violent nail piercing her body, pinning down her most vulnerable bone, rendering her immobile.
He had spoken to her in Chinese, in English, but never in Zongmi. Yet his voice—she could never forget it.
In a daze, the air thickened into a fog-like haze, pressing in on her. She vaguely recalled—it was a rainy afternoon after a storm at Nuffield College Library. The dark wooden table was cool to the touch, lined with long rows of bookshelves behind her. The air carried the distinct scent of the library. She had been flipping through a detective novel, dozing off, and eventually fell asleep on his arm.
When she woke up, she heard this same voice, laced with a hint of amusement: “Wake up, you’ve drooled all over my shirt.”
This identity, this grand entrance—it felt like a surreal dream. Zhen Ning had seen him without a smile before, but never had she seen him look so severe, so cutting.
The lead officer turned and stepped back, saluting him and delivering a quiet report: “Your Highness, everything here is clear.”
The man listened, his face grim as he scanned the room. His gaze lingered on nothing, nodded briefly, then turned and strode away.
Zhen Ning stood frozen for a moment, watching as the military personnel left. She bit her lip, anger surging through her, and slammed her hand hard against the table.
The stacked glasses on the table clattered loudly.
An older woman nearby quickly steadied Zhen Ning’s arm and asked: “Dear, are you alright? Would you like a drink?”
Zhen Ning accepted the glass of brandy handed to her and gulped it down. The hall returned to its opulent ambiance, guests resumed their hushed conversations, and the band began to play again.
Zhen Ning sat in the dim corner behind the table. Nearby, a group of girls gathered, whispering and giggling. They spoke flawless British English, likely daughters of nobility in the city. Their conversation drifted faintly—
“What just happened?”
“Who knows? But who was that handsome man?”
“Captain Yi She? He’s quite the heartthrob among the ladies.”
One girl teased coyly: “Really? What about the mysterious man behind him? Who was he?”
“The Crown Prince?”
“Who?”
Another girl giggled, feigning mystery: “You haven’t seen him, have you? Let me tell you…”
She leaned in close to her companion’s ear and whispered conspiratorially.
“It’s him!” A suppressed shriek escaped.
The girl covered her mouth and laughed: “Don’t even think about seducing him. He’s the chosen one, the nation’s most precious man. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—no girl in all of Moselan can win him over. His temper is notoriously bad.”
Zhen Ning’s hand trembled, causing the amber liquid in her glass to ripple slightly. She had heard them.
The Crown Prince they referred to was Bochin Dovear in full, a key member of the cabinet led by Prime Minister Major and a senior general in the Moselan Royal Air Force Command.
The current royal family of Moselan had few heirs. King Tuo Mo IV had only one daughter, Princess Ping Ce, while Prince Geoffrey’s two sons were still minors. Beyond them, the only ones addressed as “Your Highness” were the adult sons of the Duwoer noble family.
She remembered her days at Ford College, where everyone simply called him “Du.” Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he belonged to such a prestigious and illustrious family name.
Zhen Ning knew this surname, of course—but she had no idea it belonged to the ordinary Asian classmate in plaid shirts who struggled with essays, the boy she had once liked at Ford.
He was a damn liar.
Glass after glass, Zhen Ning drank, growing slightly tipsy. Memories flooded her mind, scene after scene. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again.
That winter in London had been bitterly cold. She had returned from Scotland to find their apartment spotlessly clean, like the River Cherwell after a snowfall. In a daze, she spent more than a week before finally accepting the fact that he had vanished without a trace.
For much of their acquaintance, Zhen Ning had never paid attention to his identity. At first, she even thought he might be of Chinese descent—there were many wealthy Chinese descendants in Moselan—and he spoke fluent Chinese. It wasn’t until she saw the Land Rover with British royal plates picking him up that doubts began to creep in.
Only once, when she pressed him relentlessly, did he finally admit: “I can’t guarantee the future.”
Zhen Ning finally asked: “Who are you?”
At the time, he indulged her wild guesses, neither confirming nor denying.
It wasn’t entirely unexpected—when he was so guarded about his true identity, Zhen Ning had already suspected something. But his sudden departure severed all ties.
Later, Zhen Ning wondered if he had known he would leave her soon and let her act out as a result. On second thought, perhaps he hadn’t even recognized her tonight—he’d probably forgotten her entirely.
Zhen Ning chuckled bitterly at herself.
At 1:00 AM, Zhen Ning left the banquet. Despite the minor disruption, the attending artists seemed largely unaffected, and the party remained lively. She ascended the stairs slowly, always striving to stay composed, though tonight she had made an exception and drunk heavily.
As she stepped onto the spiral escalator, she glanced back. The grand hall was a decadent scene of wilting flowers and clinking glasses, a lavish spectacle of fading splendor.
Perhaps this country would change drastically by morning, yet tonight, people remained lost in their dreams. The phone in her hotel room rang just after 4:00 AM.
After drinking, Zhen Ning wasn’t drunk, but her head throbbed painfully, and she couldn’t sleep. She picked up the phone and heard the polite voice of the hotel receptionist: “Miss Shu, you have a visitor on the line.”
Zhen Ning was silent for a few seconds. “Put them through.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, then she heard his voice, familiar as if speaking to an old friend: “Are you asleep?”
The man’s voice on the phone still sounded dreamlike, unreal. “I’m downstairs, in the west garden.”
Zhen Ning got up, changed into a coat, smoothed her hair, and went out.
From afar, she spotted him immediately—a tall man standing on the grass, hands in the pockets of his trench coat, his posture straight as a sword, his brows slightly furrowed, exuding that aristocratic aloofness that kept people at bay.
Almost simultaneously, Du Boqin saw her too. He didn’t move, only watched silently as she walked straight toward him.
Zhen Ning glanced behind him and quickly averted her gaze, pretending nothing was amiss. Someone was hiding in the shadows of the trees.
Captain Yi She, the head of the guards, stood a few steps away in the darkness, watching the young woman approach His Highness. The cold edge on Boqin’s face began to soften, his eyes gradually warming.
Alarm bells rang in the captain’s mind.
This woman would be a significant threat to their security operations.
Zhen Ning stood before Du Boqin and asked bluntly: “Your Highness, what brings you here?” At her formal address, Boqin understood immediately: “You already know.”
“Yes, I found out a few hours ago. Quite shocking,” Zhen Ning said. “A royal relative, a silver-winged pilot, such dazzling titles.”
Her tone carried a hint of mockery.
Boqin lowered his voice: “I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”
Zhen Ning’s expression remained neutral: “Think about all the stupid things I said in front of you, Your Highness. You must have been laughing inside, weren’t you?”
Boqin pursed his lips, knowing now wasn’t the time to smile, and quickly suppressed it: “No.”
Zhen Ning felt like hitting him.
Boqin’s voice grew hoarse: “I’ve just finished work. I couldn’t wait until morning—I wanted to see you first. Zhen Ning, it’s been a long time. How are you?”
He still pronounced her name perfectly, just as he had in the past. Zhen Ning’s heart trembled slightly, and she finally looked up, studying his face carefully.
His face was exactly as she remembered it—a Chinese face, black hair, a straight nose. What Zhen Ning loved most were his eyes: double-lidded, with a subtle downward tilt at the outer corners, exuding an Eastern understated beauty.
Now, those eyes were bloodshot, tiny veins spreading across them—he must have stayed awake all night. Zhen Ning shifted her gaze and replied indifferently: “Great. And you?”
Boqin, however, continued to gaze steadily at her face: “I’m fine too. Where did you go after graduation? Back to China?”
Zhen Ning no longer wanted to engage in polite small talk. “Your Highness, do you have something to say? Or are you just here to reminisce with an old classmate in the middle of the night?”
Boqin was stunned for several seconds before replying: “I thought we were at least still friends.”
Zhen Ning brushed off her clothes and turned to leave: “That’s not how I feel. If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to bed.”
“Zhen Ning…” Boqin hastily grabbed her arm. Finally, he said, “I know, I left without saying goodbye back then…”
Zhen Ning suddenly turned around and kicked him hard in the knee, snarling: “Friends? That’s how you treat your friends!”
Boqin didn’t dodge, and her kick landed squarely on his shin. In the next instant, two black-clad figures darted forward: “Your Highness!”
But Boqin moved faster, pulling her protectively into his arms and saying firmly: “It’s fine.”
The shadows retreated.
Zhen Ning pulled away from his embrace. Boqin said lightly: “Still not satisfied? Want to kick me again?” Zhen Ning rolled her eyes: “Go to hell.”
Boqin chuckled softly, finding her as brash and endearing as ever.
He said: “It’s late. Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can make time. All flights in the capital will be grounded tomorrow, so don’t wander around, alright?”
Zhen Ning yawned, waved dismissively at him, and went back to bed.
In the morning, Zhen Ning drew the curtains and looked out from the hotel’s high-rise window. Thick fog blanketed the river, shrouding the entire city in white.
Hotel staff informed guests that Moselan had announced the closure of all ports and airports in the capital this morning.
In the afternoon, Moselan National Broadcasting aired shocking news nationwide—the king had fallen ill last night and passed away early this morning despite efforts to save him.
On TV, the white lion flag above the Carla Palace was slowly being lowered. The palace doctor then announced the cause of the king’s death.
The capital’s citizens were plunged into immense grief and panic.
The media swarmed to No. 1 Regent Avenue, where the prime minister urgently convened a cabinet meeting. Government officials came and went, their expressions solemn.
“Twenty hours—twenty hours too late,” Zhen Ning thought silently as she stared at the TV.
The announcement of the king’s death had been delayed by nearly twenty hours. During that time, various factions must have been frantically searching for the missing heir. Only when they had no choice did they release the news. By then, Princess Ping Ce had likely already safely left Moselan.
Zhen Ning watched the news in her hotel suite when there was a knock at the door. Ji Xuan had come with her aunt to visit. Upon seeing Zhen Ning, her aunt clutched her hand and wept: “We failed to take care of you.”
Zhen Ning quickly embraced her: “Don’t worry, I’m doing fine.”
Both women were dressed in mourning attire, holding roses. Ji Xuan said: “I’m accompanying Mom to the church.”
After chatting for a while, Zhen Ning saw her aunt and cousin off, then returned to watch the news. Crowds poured onto the streets and into the municipal square, where white flowers piled up like an ocean in front of the palace.
In the afternoon, as Zhen Ning descended to the lobby, a young man had been waiting for her for some time. She recognized him as Captain Yi She.
Captain Yi She was still in his military uniform, bowing slightly to her with great courtesy: “Miss Shu, I am Prince Boqin’s guard. On His Highness’s orders, I sincerely invite you to meet at Xinjia Apartments.”
Zhen Ning smirked faintly: “Do I have the right to refuse?” Yi She remained deferential: “It would be difficult for me to explain if you did.”
Zhen Ning glanced at the driver standing rigidly outside and the nervous hotel manager lingering in the lobby. Shrugging, she walked out.
Yi She opened the car door for her: “Thank you very much, Miss Shu.”
The car sped through the streets of Condor. Many shops in the capital were replacing their colorful billboards. While waiting at a red light, Zhen Ning noticed an elderly woman walking hand-in-hand with a child. Both held plain flowers, silently crossing the street opposite. Though the Moselan royal family didn’t govern directly, and internal political struggles had persisted in recent years, in the hearts of ordinary citizens, the monarchy still represented their hopes and dreams.
She finally understood why she had never seen any news about him over the years. It was because he wasn’t the type of royal who attended social events. He served the nation, bound by confidentiality agreements, and rarely appeared in public royal settings. As a result, he hadn’t even left a trace in the media over the years.
His usual destination was the Dangguang Building, the headquarters of the Ministry of Defense and the nerve center of Moselan’s military operations. That area was a blank spot on the map of Condor, guarded around the clock by armed forces.
The car turned onto Xinjia Garden Avenue.
This area housed foreign embassies, with grand European-style mansions standing alone behind ornate gates. The street was closed off to the public, and tourists were barred from entering two blocks away.
Zhen Ning noticed rows of silent, intricately carved gates, with large dogs lazily strolling through gardens. The car glided smoothly into the heart of the neighborhood.
The sedan made a turn and stopped in front of a white house deep within the block. A man opened the car door: “Miss Shu, welcome.”
Zhen Ning stepped out, and a man in his forties, dressed in traditional Moselan robes, bowed deeply to her: “I am an attendant of Prince Boqin. My surname is Si.”
Zhen Ning nodded at him: “Mr. Si.” She followed him through the entrance hall and into the house.
Mr. Si informed her: “His Highness will return in fifteen minutes. Please wait here, Miss Shu.”
A maid came to pour tea and then quietly withdrew. Silence settled around her, and Zhen Ning finally looked up to take in her surroundings.
This was an older house, but it was decorated with bold, masculine elegance. The furniture was modern, and on the corridor walls hung black-and-white vintage maps of Moselan airspace.
So this was what his real home looked like.
Nearly a year into their acquaintance, Zhen Ning had visited his apartment in Ford. She remembered the upscale unit—complete with river views and a garden—but there had been no trace of anything related to aviation. At the time, she thought he was just an ordinary physics student, much like his classmates who spent their days rushing to finish experiments and reports. The only notable difference was that he never wore glasses—he had perfect vision.
Now, reflecting on it, he must have planned all along to keep a low profile while completing his studies in the UK before returning home immediately. No wonder he called her reckless when she clung to him back then.
---
Office of the Air Force Command Headquarters, Dangguang Building
At the round conference table in the spacious office, James, the national intelligence specialist, handed Du Boqin a report.
Du Boqin set down his pen, flipped through the documents in his hand, and asked: “How does it look?”
James shrugged: “All surveillance footage appears normal. Every vehicle that entered or exited the Carla Palace that night has been investigated in the first round. No suspicious individuals were found entering. After Princess Ping Ce went missing, we reviewed all immigration and emigration records in Condor and found nothing unusual. However, one thing caught our attention—a private helicopter crossed the border at 9:38 PM that night.”
Du Boqin glanced up at him.
James quickly added: “The helicopter is registered under the name of the Global Golf Club. We’re currently investigating the club. If they don’t own the aircraft, the registration documents were likely forged.”
Du Boqin circled something on the paper with his pen.
James tapped the desk: “Boss, whoever managed to sneak the princess out must have had very few people involved.”
Du Boqin nodded: “Possibly even just one person.”
James chuckled: “A flawless performance.”
The man sitting behind the table frowned slightly, deep in thought, before speaking: “Investigate the king’s office and personal phone records for the past week, especially overseas communications.”
James nodded, ready to leave, but Du Boqin added: “Send Rebecca in to see me.”
James turned back with a teasing tone: “Hey, the prime minister is waiting outside.”
Without looking up, Du Boqin replied: “Have the secretary pour him another cup of coffee. Let Rebecca come in first.”
Ten minutes later.
The meeting room door was pushed open forcefully. A striking woman in military uniform stood by the table and turned to look: “Prime Minister...”
Du Boqin gestured to her: “You may leave.”
The current prime minister of Moselan, Major, walked in. He loosened the top button of his suit jacket with one hand and held a folder in the other, tapping it warningly at Du Boqin before sitting down on the sofa.
Du Boqin closed the file in his hands and moved to sit across from him.
The prime minister slid a document toward him: “The death investigation report is complete.”
Du Boqin flipped through the results, his expression unchanged. He said calmly: “It seems this news will have to remain buried forever.”
Major lit a cigar: “The king’s deteriorating health has been eyed hungrily by that ambitious conspirator for years. But without finding the princess, it’ll be hard to explain this to the public.”
Du Boqin responded: “If the princess can’t be found, the parliament will submit a report on Monday to address the incident at the Carla Palace. If the outcome isn’t too disastrous, you’ll need to attend the House of Commons inquiry session.”
The prime minister’s face darkened: “What are your conditions?”
Du Boqin looked at him, speaking deliberately: “Access to File No. 78 in the National Archives.”
Major paused, then nodded knowingly: “So you’re still determined to do this.”
Du Boqin’s eyes hardened like frost-covered blades as he stared silently at Major.
Major didn’t think long: “Since the fourth generation of the royal family has become history, I can no longer stop you…” He glanced at Du Boqin. “Then, there will be no report submitted to the parliament on Monday.”
Du Boqin’s expression softened slightly: “Deal.”
Major looked at him: “What about the missing princess?”
Du Boqin closed the investigation report in his hands. He wasn’t particularly concerned with the internal power struggles of the royal family: “Announce to the public that the princess is still young and will be sent to her maternal family for upbringing. The prince played his hand well, but he slipped up at the last step—the princess escaped his control. It seems the only wish he’ll fulfill now is moving into the royal chambers of the Carla Palace, which he’s always dreamed of.”
Major extinguished his cigar, stood up, and patted Du Boqin’s shoulder: “No matter who serves as prime minister, none could match you. After forty-eight hours of intense work, you’re still calculating with such precision.”
Du Boqin replied: “If that’s the case, I won’t attend tomorrow morning’s meeting.”
Major raised an eyebrow: “When have you ever attended?”
Du Boqin stood up, a faint smirk on his face: “The coffee’s good? Then I’ll sit for a bit longer.” With that, he grabbed his coat and walked straight out the door.
As Du Boqin stepped out of the elevator, Yi She was waiting downstairs: “Miss Shu is already at the apartment.”
Du Boqin nodded and took the file Yi She handed him.
The soldiers in the parking lot snapped to attention, saluting crisply as the electronic gate emitted a soft beep. The underground parking space on level two slowly ascended.
Du Boqin got into the car and opened the file on Shu Zhen Ning.
According to her visa and passport information, she was a citizen of China. Her biological parents were Moselan scientists residing in the United Kingdom, who had tragically died in a geological survey accident twenty-two years ago. She was later adopted by her current parents in China. This trip to Moselan was to attend a wedding. The bride, Ji Xuan, was her cousin; their mothers were sisters. Both families had clean backgrounds. Zhen Ning held a standard tourist visa and had arrived in Condor by plane on Friday.
This matched exactly what she had told him years ago.
Du Boqin placed the investigative report in the car’s storage compartment and started the engine.
Lights flickered on one by one as dusk fell. It seemed to have rained earlier in the evening, and the bustling cityscape reflected in the wet streets. He gazed silently at the shimmering metropolis, his iron-hard heart softening just a little after all these years.
How long had it been since he last saw her? Four years?
Not quite four years—exactly three years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days. He had left London a week before Christmas, and three Christmases had passed since then.
Over the past few years, he had been in a constant state of readiness, working almost nonstop with high intensity and urgency. This relentless pace left him so exhausted that he collapsed into bed each night without a moment to reminisce about the past.
He was granted about a month of convalescent leave each year, during which he would return to Condor and stay at Fanlu Manor. Sometimes, waking up in the middle of the night, he would sit on the small sofa in his study, sipping half a glass of wine, and recall their first meeting at Ford University. It felt as though half a lifetime had passed since then.
He still vividly remembered their parting. She had gone on a trip to the northern highlands with her classmates by train, repeatedly insisting that he wait for her return to celebrate Christmas together. He had tried not to imagine how she would react upon finding that he had vanished completely.
Every Christmas, however, he couldn’t help but remember the first time he saw her.
It was at the Bromley Ski Center. He spotted a figure in a bright yellow ski jacket screaming uncontrollably as they sped down the slope before crashing face-first into the snow. The yellow-clad figure flailed helplessly in the snow, unable to get up, shouting loudly in Chinese for help.
Her head was half-buried in the snow, yet she managed to shout so loudly—it was rather embarrassing.
He rarely participated in classmate gatherings, but that day, feeling unusually charitable, he walked over, pulled her up, and said coldly in Chinese: “Alright, stop shouting!”
Shu Zhen Ning shook the snow off her head and glared at him.
That was when Du Boqin finally got a good look at her—a Chinese girl with sparkling eyes like stars. They became friends for a while, but they never dated because he didn’t dare to. Later, as the political situation in Moselan grew unpredictable, his family’s fortunes fluctuated, and he found himself deeply entangled in it all. Over these four years, through countless takeoffs and landings on military runways, he barely recognized the person he used to be. The one thing he hadn’t forgotten was the radiant, sunlit aura she carried.
---
Du Boqin handed his coat to the servant in the corridor and asked quietly: “Where is my guest?” The servant responded politely: “Mr. Si is attending to her in the library.”
Du Boqin stepped into the hall, glanced toward the library at the end of the corridor, but hesitated briefly by the sofa.
Si San emerged from the inner hall: “Your Highness.”
Du Boqin nodded, loosened his tie with one hand, his palm slightly damp.
Si San placed a glass of iced water on the coffee table, studied his expression, and remarked: “It’s rare to see you like this.”
Du Boqin glanced at him indifferently. Si San smiled faintly and bowed, retreating.
Du Boqin leaned forward, picked up the glass of water, and sat down on the sofa, sipping slowly. Holding the cool glass, he couldn’t help but shake his head and let out a self-deprecating smile. He hadn’t expected to feel so apprehensive.
Zhen Ning, with her sharp hearing, instantly held her breath when she heard the car pull into the courtyard. She listened as he entered the house, gave a few quiet instructions, and then silence fell.
The silence stretched endlessly. Finally, the sound of footsteps approached the library.
The room was dimly lit. As the door opened, he immediately spotted her standing by the window: “Zhen Ning.”
Under the soft glow of a floor lamp, Zhen Ning turned her head. His navy-blue coat was off, replaced by a crisp light blue shirt, the three stars on his collar gleaming brightly.
She looked at his expression—this was his public persona. When he wasn’t smiling, there was always a hint of coldness between his brows.
Zhen Ning turned her head, her expression colder than his: “Prince Duwoer, I hold a valid visa to visit your country. You have no right to restrict my freedom.”
Du Boqin watched her silently for two seconds, his furrowed brows exuding an oppressive presence.
After a long pause, Du Boqin pressed his right hand against his left wrist and said slowly: “You’ve grown up.”
Zhen Ning straightened her back, her tone stiff: “Don’t try to get familiar with me. I was already an adult when I met you.”
Du Boqin chuckled softly, removed his watch, and asked in an unusually good-natured tone: “Can we have dinner first?”
In the dining room on the first floor, the curtains were drawn, but the floor-to-ceiling windows were open, allowing the intoxicating scent of red roses from the garden to drift in with the night breeze.
Du Boqin dismissed the servants and personally poured Zhen Ning half a glass of wine. She, meanwhile, was eating salad.
“What have you been doing these past few years?” Du Boqin asked.
“About a year after graduation, I returned to my hometown and opened a small shop, making a few essential oils,” Zhen Ning replied thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. She sighed: “Time flies. What about you?”
“I’ve been stationed at several bases. I was just transferred back to Condor this year. Coastlines, deserts, forests, and border towns—the entire nation’s defense line looks half blue and half gray from above.”
Zhen Ning was momentarily captivated, but she didn’t forget something important.
A moment later, Du Boqin spoke first: “Have you settled down?”
Zhen Ning tensed internally but kept her composure. Slowly unfolding her napkin, she replied: “What about you?”
Du Boqin answered honestly: “As you can see, my house has no mistress.”
Zhen Ning’s heart, which had been riding a rollercoaster, finally settled. She set down her fork, touched her wine glass, and said leisurely: “Serves you right for deceiving me.”
The light in Du Boqin’s eyes dimmed slightly, his voice low: “I went back to the school once. You had already left. I thought perhaps you were married. I couldn’t disturb you…”
“Hold on…” Zhen Ning waved her hand to interrupt him. “What do you mean, ‘perhaps’? Why couldn’t I already be married?”
Du Boqin glanced at her, helpless: “The consulate verified your marital status when you applied for your visa to Moselan.”
Zhen Ning’s face fell, and she pouted: “How boring.”
Du Boqin studied her expression carefully and asked: “So… no boyfriend either?”
Zhen Ning stabbed her knife fiercely into the meat on her plate: “I’m not telling you!”
Du Boqin bit his lip to suppress a smile, placed a slice of steak in front of her, and handed her a fork: “Come on, eat.”
---
After dinner, Zhen Ning prepared to leave, and Du Boqin drove her back to the hotel.
At the intersection of Regent Avenue, the lights flickered. Suddenly, Du Boqin turned the steering wheel, and the car veered out of the city.
Driving swiftly through the traffic, they soon left the bustling downtown behind. In the western suburbs, the trees swayed in the lamplight, and a cool breeze blew through the car windows.
The mist-shrouded view of Condor from the western hills was one of the city’s famous sights.
The car bypassed the crowds of night tourists, turning onto a quiet lane and avoiding several noisy viewpoints. After driving for a while, Zhen Ning saw nothing but vast open plains ahead. The stars hung low in the sky, as if within reach.
Du Boqin stopped the car.
The dashboard emitted a faint blue glow. He glanced at the woman beside him, her cheeks still sweet as roses.
Zhen Ning smiled: “Your Highness, was there something you couldn’t say during dinner?”
Du Boqin gazed at the glittering city lights below and suddenly spoke: “When we were at Ford, I always wanted to invite you to Moselan.”
Zhen Ning tilted her head and looked at him: “It’s a beautiful country, one you should be proud of.”
Du Boqin looked at her, sighing almost imperceptibly: “Do you know the history of Moselan?” His voice was calm, but Zhen Ning could still detect a deep-seated bitterness beneath the surface.
Zhen Ning nodded: “A little.”
The history of his family was closely intertwined with Moselan’s independence. The Duwoer family, as royal relatives, had played a pivotal role in the nation’s founding. Du Boqin’s great-grandfather had followed King Tuo Mo I in leading the country to independence and self-governance in the 1930s. Du Boqin’s father—the later Duke of Condor—was one of the greatest figures in Moselan’s history, commanding the nation’s armed forces for nearly a decade. However, eighteen years ago, he fell from grace after being investigated by a military tribunal, marking the family’s retreat from Moselan’s political and military spheres. For years, the family faded into obscurity until the eldest son, Du Boqin, entered military service and rose to the rank of general due to his exceptional performance. Two years ago, when Du Boqin received the King’s Medal at the Carla Palace, it reminded the public of the family’s former glory.
Du Boqin slightly raised his hand and pulled out the car key, plunging the interior into darkness. Zhen Ning could only make out the contours of his calm profile.
His voice, low and steady, sounded thin in the pitch-black car: “When my family fell into turmoil, my father struggled to adapt for a long time. He was deeply despondent for many years. But despite everything, he was an extraordinary father to us—especially to me. No matter what happened, he was always the best father.”
Zhen Ning now understood the source of the coldness and melancholy she had sensed in Du Boqin when they first met.
He had grown up in such an environment. After the shocking national air disaster, his father was placed under house arrest by military intelligence for over a decade. Before that, his father had been a radical advocate for economic reform, and after his fall, he endured years of political persecution and repeated secret investigations. His wife and three children were confined to a lakeside villa in the Fanlu Mountains, under constant surveillance, losing their freedom for the rest of their lives.
A family, caught in the whirlwind of a nation’s regime change, had lost all dignity.
Du Boqin spoke with difficulty: “Back in Ford, when my father suddenly passed away, our family collapsed. My siblings were still young, and I was serving in the military. At the time, the situation was so complex that I didn’t even know what my future would hold…”
Zhen Ning’s heart sank. She could imagine how difficult it must have been for the widowed mother and orphaned children to survive in such circumstances.
Du Boqin said softly: “I never wanted you to know any of this—it was too complicated for you. I’m sorry for deceiving you.”
Zhen Ning asked: “Did the authorities investigate you?” He gave a faint smile: “It was manageable.”
At his seemingly casual remark, Zhen Ning’s hand trembled slightly.
Having taken courses on East Asian culture in university, she was well aware of the political dynamics of post-colonial nations striving for independence. Over the past four years, if Du Boqin hadn’t secured a foothold in the political arena, the fate of his family after his father’s death would have been unpredictable.
---
At just past ten in the evening, Du Boqin drove her back to the hotel. As the car stopped in front of the entrance, Zhen Ning unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle: “I’m going in.”
“Wait,” Du Boqin suddenly leaned over and grabbed her wrist. Zhen Ning froze, looking up to meet his intense gaze.
The heat of his palm seeped into her skin, making her feel as though she couldn’t breathe.
Du Boqin took a deep breath and said: “Zhen Ning, back in Ford, I told you I couldn’t guarantee any future. Now, I think I can. Could you… stay? Let’s give it another chance.”
Tears welled up in Zhen Ning’s eyes, but she quickly masked her emotions with a stern expression: “Your Highness, even if your departure was justified, don’t think a single dinner will make me forgive you.”
Du Boqin immediately replied: “Let me make it up to you. Will you stay?”
Zhen Ning responded flatly: “Your Highness, let me tell you—I’m far more arrogant now than when you first met me. Ten times more.”
Du Boqin chuckled.
Zhen Ning kicked his car: “What are you laughing at!”
Du Boqin suddenly reached out and gently touched her cheek, his voice soft: “Stay.”
Zhen Ning turned her head to avoid his touch, but how could she resist such a heartfelt plea?
Just then, a car leaving the hotel honked its horn. Du Boqin maneuvered the vehicle to a temporary lane: “Let me take you inside.”
Zhen Ning nodded.
For a moment, neither spoke, but a sweet warmth filled the silence. Both felt a shy nervousness akin to a first date.
Du Boqin got out to open the car door for her, gently supporting her arm as he escorted her into the hotel lobby. Before leaving, he whispered: “Goodnight.”
---
In early December, the ancient city of Beijian was swept by strong winds, causing the flags outside the teahouse beneath the city gate to flutter noisily.
Zhen Ning was taking inventory in the back warehouse of her shop. Though it was the off-season, sales were still decent.
Her assistant, Xiao An, had been busy attending to customers all day, barely finding time to sit down for a drink. By five in the afternoon, Zhen Ning sent her home, locked up the shop, and wheeled out her bicycle from the nearby alley.
After graduating from university, Zhen Ning returned home to formally study the art of incense-making under her master while running a small shop near Yue Brook Academy in the ancient city. The shop sold fragrances and aromatherapy products made in her studio.
She had originally planned to return a week after attending her cousin’s wedding in Condor, but ended up staying over ten days. When she came back, the shop was nearly out of stock. Fortunately, Xiao An’s enthusiasm and charm kept the business afloat despite half-empty shelves. Zhen Ning worked overtime for several days, producing batches of the customers’ favorite scented candles to ease the crisis.
Now, she leisurely cycled out of the academy’s streets, passed the church, turned into a narrow eastern path, and followed the cobblestone road through two streets before arriving at the Feng family courtyard.
There was a side door connecting to the kitchen, and cycling home via this route took only twenty minutes. Zhen Ning knocked, and Cheng Sao peeked her head out: “Welcome back, miss.”
Zhen Ning pushed her bike into the yard. It was a large three-sectioned mansion housing over a dozen members of the Feng family. Over the years, as the children grew older, those who weren’t married traveled the world. But whenever they returned, the house was always lively.
Zhen Ning accepted a piece of rice cake from Cheng Sao, nibbling on it as she walked toward the main hall. As soon as she entered, a figure darted out wearing a wizard mask: “I’m back!”
Zhen Ning kicked at him: “You’re too old to be scaring people!”
Feng Ze nimbly dodged, teasing: “Still so fierce! No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend!”
Zhen Ning swung her backpack at him: “Mind your own business!”
Feng Ze brought over a small box: “Here, what you asked for.”
The latest fragrances from European brands—she reviewed each season’s releases carefully. She took the box: “Thanks.”
Feng Ze leaned in: “Kiss me.” Zhen Ning slapped him.
“Ow!” Feng Ze yelped. Their mother appeared, seeing her youngest son pestering her daughter: “Feng Ze, stop bothering your sister.”
Feng Ze glared at Zhen Ning and mimed letting her off the hook.
After dinner, Zhen Ning spent some time with her mother before heading upstairs to her room. Not long after, Feng Ze called from downstairs: “Sis, come play the new Total War game!”
Zhen Ning replied from her room: “No thanks!”
Feng Ze asked, puzzled: “But isn’t this your favorite game?”
Zhen Ning shouted back: “I’ll beat you eighteen times tomorrow!”
The phone rang just after eleven. Zhen Ning dove onto her bed and pressed the answer button: “Hi!”
The next second, she heard Du Boqin ask: “How was your day?”
“It was good. Today, all the customers seemed to love the same scent—jasmine. We sold out of everything jasmine-scented.”
“Is it cold?”
“Not during the day.”
“How’s the weather in Condor?”
Du Boqin paused for a moment and said: “I’m not in Condor.”
“Then where are you?” Zhen Ning blurted out without thinking.
There was silence on the other end. Perhaps unaccustomed to lying, Du Boqin hesitated for a few seconds: “Well… this is...”
“You can’t tell me, right?” Zhen Ning rubbed her nose and then cheerfully changed the subject. “Didn’t you ask me the other day if I still go skiing in winter? I checked, and there’s a ski resort near Beijian Snow Mountain—it’s really close. But I’ve never been there all these years. Hmm, do you know Beijian Snow Mountain?”
Du Boqin replied: “Yes, I looked at a map of your hometown after you went back.”
“Not bad. You must love me deeply,” Zhen Ning teased.
There was another brief silence on the other end.
Zhen Ning chuckled: “Big brother, you’re not blushing again, are you?”
“I want to go with you,” Du Boqin said.
“Where?”
“To the ski resort in your hometown.” They had met through skiing.
After he had pulled her out of the snow that first time, during the rest of the Christmas camp activities, Zhen Ning couldn’t help but steal glances at him. But he remained as cold as ice, seemingly oblivious to her attention. One morning at breakfast, when Zhen Ning stood next to him to get coffee, she turned and stared at him for a few seconds—and to her surprise, his face flushed red. Zhen Ning quickly grabbed her coffee and fled.
A week later, after the event ended, everyone took the school bus back to Ford. Zhen Ning mingled with her classmates and followed him all the way back to Ford Town. He was extremely impatient with her, and the first thing he said to her was: “Why are you following me?”
“Who says I’m following you?” Zhen Ning grinned mischievously and pointed to the yellow-brick classical clock tower building by the roadside. “My dorm is right here.” Then she strutted off proudly, dragging her suitcase behind her.
Later, Zhen Ning asked around and found out which college he was in. Whenever he was in class, she would sneak in to talk to him. Sometimes, when he was in the library, she would quietly do her homework nearby. In fact, Du Boqin completely ignored her, and for a long time, he never responded to her advances.
Zhen Ning touched her phone thoughtfully, realizing that even now, he was still often absent.
Her tourist visa for Moselan had only been valid for fifteen days. After her cousin’s wedding, she stayed in Condor for a week. During that week, Du Boqin took her to see the colonial-era Somo Cathedral, had dinner at the aquarium, and watched a musical at the Royal Grand Theater. They met three times in total, each meeting lasting only two precious hours.
As an active-duty officer in the air force, Du Boqin’s base at Fokong Military Base was about a two-hour drive from the capital, Condor. On regular days, he was busy with training, drills, and flights. His job demanded peak physical fitness and focus. If he was stationed at the military base, Zhen Ning never disturbed him. Sometimes, when Du Boqin called and she missed it, she would call back, but most of the time, no one answered. Usually, Du Boqin initiated contact, and sometimes, after just a few words, he would suddenly say, “Sorry, I have a mission,” and hang up.
But every time he left abruptly, he would remember to apologize when he called back. Zhen Ning had noticed long ago that even when he was extremely impatient with her, he would still apologize in a cold yet polite tone: “Sorry, miss, I don’t mean anything by it.”
Later, she teased him: “You say sorry so much. Aren’t you tired?”
“No,” Du Boqin replied. “Sorry, are you tired of hearing it?”
Zhen Ning now understood that from the moment he was born, his education had been predetermined. He had grown up receiving formal royal education, attending elite public schools. His family was extraordinarily free and wealthy, yet as an adult, he willingly returned to his homeland to undergo training in the notoriously strict and brutal Silver Wing Squadron. Though Du Boqin hadn’t mentioned it, Zhen Ning knew that by constantly calling her, he was sacrificing what little rest time he had.
The palm of her hand holding the phone grew warm, and her heart felt like a soft meadow brushed by a gentle breeze. For some reason, her heart softened: “What time did you leave the field tonight?”
Du Boqin’s voice was low but steady, exuding a sense of calm assurance: “Eleven o’clock. I left early.”
She knew he must be exhausted after his night flight, but neither of them wanted to hang up. After exchanging a few more words, she forced herself to say: “Alright, go rest.”
Du Boqin obediently replied: “Goodnight.”
---
Before Christmas, Zhen Ning was preparing to leave.
Over the years, she had traveled all over the world. Her family had always been lenient with her. When she was younger, no one paid much attention to her, but this time, Feng Rong asked: “Sister, are you dating someone?”
Zhen Ning laughed: “Yes, I met an old flame, fell in love, and it’s been unstoppable ever since.”
Her usually composed older brother was momentarily stunned. He looked at her seriously and said: “If it’s true, bring him home for us to meet.”
Zhen Ning shook her head quickly: “No way. Third Brother always scares away my boyfriends.”
She had three brothers, and every boy who had ever pursued her had been scared off by them.
Zhen Ning took the morning flight and arrived in Condor at noon. Du Boqin had arranged for a driver to pick her up. After exiting the airport highway, the car didn’t head into the bustling downtown area. Instead, it turned directly into the Xinde Embassy District via an outer ring road that connected to the airport expressway.
Suddenly, a car honked from behind.
The driver glanced at the rearview mirror and straightened up immediately: “It’s His Highness’s car.”
He maneuvered the car to give way, and a black SUV passed by. Zhen Ning leaned against the window and saw the person in the driver’s seat wave at her.
Du Boqin’s house was deep within the street. From afar, she could see the tall, intricately carved iron gates. The two cars entered the courtyard one after the other.
Du Boqin jumped out of his car, walked over to Zhen Ning’s car, and opened the door.
Zhen Ning stepped out, but before her feet touched the ground, Du Boqin lifted her up: “Thank you for coming.”
Zhen Ning found herself hoisted into the air. She looked down at him—he was wearing Silver Wing training gear: dark green camouflage pants and a pilot’s jacket. Excitedly, she wrapped her arms around his neck: “Wow, you look so handsome.”
Du Boqin set her down, and Zhen Ning gazed at him with a smile. They embraced again, and she reached out to press her hand firmly against the Silver Wing insignia on his chest.
Du Boqin held her hand and escorted her into the house. After ensuring her luggage was properly placed by the driver, he said helplessly: “I can only stay for half a day. I need to go back now.”
Zhen Ning smiled sweetly: “Mm, so you came just to see me?”
Du Boqin kissed her forehead: “I feel bad that I don’t have time to spend Christmas with you.”
Zhen Ning pushed him gently: “Alright, go back to training.”
Du Boqin saw her into the house and then left in a whirlwind.
Zhen Ning sat on a chair on the front porch of the courtyard. The summer roses had all fallen, and the orange trees were laden with golden fruit. The weather in early winter was still pleasant; Condor wouldn’t truly grow cold until January or February.
This visit meant something significant for both of them. Zhen Ning had always liked him, and after their paths crossed again, it only confirmed that she was still drawn to his mysterious Eastern charm, just as she had been years ago.
If pursuing him in university had been an act of youthful impulsiveness, driven by pure, reckless courage, then seeing him again four years later made her heart flutter even more.
She wouldn’t be satisfied unless she tried.
---
At seven o’clock the next evening, Du Boqin returned from Fokong Base. “Don’t stay at a hotel—stay in the guest room,” he said, bending down to sniff her hair.
Zhen Ning tilted her head up: “Are you a dog?”
“I’m exactly like a dog,” he replied with a grin.
“Wow, you even know about the twelve zodiac animals.”
“Miss Hua, I have one-quarter Chinese blood.”
As Du Boqin gave her a tour of the house, she asked: “Can I go anywhere in this house?”
“Mm,” Du Boqin nodded but then hesitated. “Except for the study.” Zhen Ning was taken aback.
Du Boqin explained softly: “My work involves some classified national documents. I hope you don’t mind. Most government officials are like this...”
Zhen Ning nodded: “I understand.”
She had been frequenting this place recently—Du Boqin’s residence in the city, the garden apartment in the Xinde Embassy District located in Condor’s western district, which served as both the diplomatic office of the Moselan Monarchic Republic and the municipal government office. One day, Si San accompanied a military security officer who politely requested to scan her facial features to input them into the facial recognition system.
Zhen Ning looked troubled.
Si San noticed her expression and quietly stepped out.
A while later, Du Boqin called from his office: “Zhen Ning, don’t worry. It’s just to make it easier for you to come and go.”
Reluctantly, Zhen Ning agreed.
Over the years, she had kept a low profile, never expecting to leave such significant biometric data in a country’s security system.
As the computer scanned her face, she gradually realized that the man she loved held a special identity, and she would need to learn compromise—if compromise was indeed part of love.
After only a few days in Condor, Zhen Ning noticed how regular his habits were.
As an active-duty officer, Du Boqin’s schedule was extremely disciplined. If he wasn’t on a flight mission, he left the apartment promptly at 7 a.m. every morning, driving himself to work. In the underground garage of Dangguang Building, there was a designated parking spot for Du Boqin’s understated black X5. When he was at work, Zhen Ning didn’t always manage to reach him, but there was a phone in the apartment with an encrypted line that could connect to his office.
He wasn’t often at home. Moselan had twelve air force bases nationwide, and sometimes he coordinated with naval forces. However, if confidentiality wasn’t involved, Si San generally updated Zhen Ning daily on his whereabouts. In Condor, Zhen Ning never felt bored—there were so many beautiful parks, museums, and art galleries in the capital.
But now, her favorite activity was walking the dog.
Du Boqin owned a Belgian Shepherd named Lulu. The dog was exceptionally large and robust, clearly older, with graying deep brown fur and a slight limp in its right hind leg, yet its eyes remained sharp and alert. When Zhen Ning first met it, she was ecstatic—it was far more formidable and perceptive than typical household pets. Zhen Ning adored dogs, especially strong, large breeds. Perhaps emotions were contagious, because the seemingly aloof dog, upon Du Boqin introducing Zhen Ning to it, licked her palm affectionately.
Now, Zhen Ning took it jogging every day.
The staff in the house knew their boundaries well. When she needed quiet, no one disturbed her, and the entire house remained peaceful and comfortable.
A small incident occurred on the afternoon before Christmas.
Zhen Ning was in the library on the first floor when she heard the sound of a car horn outside—loud and insistent.
A servant promptly went to answer the door.
Through the pearl-gray crepe curtains, Zhen Ning saw a red sports car parked in the driveway. A striking woman in uniform briskly crossed the wind-swept courtyard and ascended the steps—it seemed she was someone Du Boqin knew. The servant greeted her warmly: “Miss Jiang, please come in.”
Zhen Ning wasn’t familiar with the guests at the house and didn’t presume to interfere.
She returned to her book until a servant came to fetch her: “Miss Shu, the soup in the kitchen is almost ready as you instructed. Would you like to check it?”
As she exited the library, she saw Si San entertaining the guest in the living room.
A crisp young female voice came from the sofa: “Father has been back for a week now. Mother said to make sure Boqin comes.”
Si San responded humbly: “I’ll relay the message as soon as His Highness returns. Please leave the invitation here.” Zhen Ning continued toward the dining room.
The woman suddenly asked: “Oh, who is this girl?” Her tone was familiar, as if she were the host, unapologetically direct.
Zhen Ning paused for a moment, gave a slight smile toward the living room, and continued into the house.
When Du Boqin returned in the evening, he placed gifts under the Christmas tree. After dinner, they sat in the living room for a while. Amidst the fragrant flowers and plants in the courtyard, Du Boqin brought in tea and gently twirled a strand of her hair with his finger.
Zhen Ning said: “A beautiful lady came looking for you this afternoon.”
Du Boqin had seen the Jiang family’s party invitation when he returned. He replied: “Mm, she’s my mentor’s daughter.”
Zhen Ning glanced at him: “That lady doesn’t seem easy to deal with. Can you handle her?” Du Boqin laughed heartily: “Do you know how difficult you are?”
Zhen Ning kicked his chair. “Before and after meeting you, I haven’t dated anyone else. You’re the only one.”
“I finally understand why you were so hard to pursue back in Ford. They said you were untouchable, the pillar and treasure of the nation.”
“Who said that?”
“The girls at the parties.” Zhen Ning smiled. Du Boqin leaned closer and asked: “Was I really that hard to pursue?”
Zhen Ning nodded emphatically: “Absolutely, it nearly killed me.”
Du Boqin studied her face carefully. Compared to her university days, she appeared more mature. She had cut her hair shorter, lost some baby fat, but her eyes still sparkled brightly.
“Do you understand my profession?”
“More than anyone, Your Highness.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
In any country, training a qualified fighter pilot required immense time and resources, making pilots invaluable national assets. Their careers meant prolonged separation, periods of no communication, and lack of companionship—everything had to be shouldered alone by their partners.
Zhen Ning winked at him: “Hey, I might stop loving you someday, but never because you love flying.”
Du Boqin’s heart trembled slightly.
From the moment he saw that lively girl waving excitedly at him during the Farnborough Airshow, he knew he’d never have to explain his shortcomings as a partner to her—because she would always understand his obsessive passion for flying.
Suddenly, Du Boqin leaned forward, pulling her into his arms. She fell onto his lap. He buried his face in her hair: “Thank you.”
---
The next morning, a maid knocked on her door early.
Zhen Ning groggily got up. In the living room, a tall Christmas tree was already adorned with gifts. In the dining room, she stood behind Du Boqin, playfully tugging at his slightly messy hair: “Merry Christmas.”
Du Boqin dressed casually in gray trousers and a white sweater. Smiling beside the dining table, he said: “Let’s have breakfast first, then open the presents. I’m off duty today—I’ll take you somewhere.”
Zhen Ning picked up her glass of milk and asked: “Where?”
Du Boqin set down the newspaper and spread salad dressing on her sandwich: “You’ll see when we get there.”
After breakfast, the two of them headed out. The guards brought Du Boqin’s car to the front courtyard, and a servant stood by with Lulu waiting in front of the vehicle. As soon as the big dog saw Du Boqin, it let out an excited “woof” and ran over, wagging its tail as it stood by the car—it seemed he planned to take it along.
Du Boqin held Zhen Ning’s hand and pointed to the back seat: “Sit in the back.” Lulu tilted its head, confusion flickering in its brown-gray eyes.
Zhen Ning couldn’t help but laugh: “Oh no, did I take its spot?” Du Boqin repeated the gesture: “Lulu, get in the back.”
Finally understanding, Lulu placed its paws on the car and jumped into the back seat.
Du Boqin immediately leaned over to pat its head: “Good boy.”
They set off from Condor’s municipal district, passed through the financial center, and merged onto the highway. After about half an hour, Zhen Ning’s view gradually opened up—fields of flowers stretched out along the roadside, their sparse branches visible under the gloomy winter sky.
Zhen Ning slowly grew tense. She already knew where they were heading. The place Du Boqin was taking her to was his home—and also the area that had been guarded by the Ministry of Defense since 1996, subsequently recorded in Moselan’s top-secret historical archives.
Taking a deep breath, Zhen Ning pressed her hand against her chest: “Fanlu Manor, right?”
Du Boqin glanced at her expression and said lightly: “Mm. You’re so smart—I thought I could surprise you.”
Excitement flushed across Zhen Ning’s cheeks. What she was about to witness would be a living piece of Moselan’s history. What surprised her even more was how sincere Du Boqin was, directly bringing her into the deepest part of his life.
She eagerly leaned toward the car window, gazing outside: “I’ve seen this scenery many times in foreign media reports.”
Du Boqin kept his hands on the steering wheel: “Do you mind my family being complicated?”
Zhen Ning countered: “Didn’t you say your parents are loving, and you and your siblings all have great relationships? Where’s the complication?”
Du Boqin chuckled: “And you don’t care about political backgrounds?”
Zhen Ning shrugged dismissively: “Who cares about politics!” Du Boqin burst into laughter and playfully pinched her cheek.
The car turned a corner and entered a wide road at the foot of the mountain. At the end of the road stood an iron gate adorned with a royal coat of arms that gleamed golden in the sunlight. Soldiers inspected the credentials of the guards in the lead car, and the two vehicles drove through the gates one after the other.
Zhen Ning first caught sight of a vast expanse of blue lake water. Beyond the lake lay rolling hills, and atop those hills, she could faintly make out the red-tiled roofs of a sprawling estate nestled amidst vibrant red and yellow autumn foliage. That deep crimson villa, once shrouded in mystery, had now shed its enigmatic aura, reverting to a luxurious private manor surrounded by breathtaking beauty.
The electronic remote-controlled gate opened slowly, and Du Boqin drove the car into the courtyard. Behind the courtyard, a long winding mountain road led upward, lined with eucalyptus and oak trees.
The car came to a stop in front of the estate driveway, where servants were already waiting at the entrance. Du Boqin stepped out of the car as maids curtsied neatly. He led Zhen Ning into the grand hall, then returned to the corridor and patted Lulu’s head: “Go play.”
Lulu barked happily and bolted into the depths of the garden, disappearing from sight.
Du Boqin returned to the hall to find Zhen Ning standing quietly at the entrance, observing the interior.
Tilting her head, she looked up at the ceiling of the high-ceilinged circular hall. It was well-lit, with classical furniture polished to a warm glow, every detail exuding refinement and elegance. Du Boqin approached her, took her hand, and guided her further inside. Several oil paintings hanging in the hallway caught Zhen Ning’s attention, and she paused to examine them closely. These works were by Kensu, the most renowned classical painter of Moselan in the last century. Kensu spent her entire life in the southern floating wooden houses, and her paintings depicted various scenes of canal streets and colonial life with meticulous brushwork, rich colors, and a unique artistic sensibility, vividly capturing an era both impoverished and beautiful. Kensu remained obscure during her lifetime, but after her death, her nephew sold off much of her work. Some pieces were brought back to Britain by a traveler and exhibited at the National Gallery in the previous century, causing a sensation. Three years ago, one of her paintings fetched £1.7 million at auction.
Now, these rare masterpieces were right before her eyes. Though they had hung there for many years and were well-maintained, it was clear that their owner treated them not with excessive reverence but with the effortless ease of true wealth.
Zhen Ning had seen many exquisite European buildings, but few combined elegance and comfort so perfectly.
She murmured her admiration: “What a beautiful house, and so well-preserved.”
Du Boqin rested his hand on her shoulder, his voice gentle: “My mother used to teach at the National Art University.”
Zhen Ning asked: “Where is your mother now?”
Du Boqin replied: “She never wanted me to go into politics, but I didn’t follow her wishes. After my father passed away, she left Moselan and now lives in Paris.”
He continued: “My younger brother is the chief defense lawyer at WOC, and my sister is studying at an Ivy League university.”
Zhen Ning laughed: “The three of you could form a parliament.”
The Fanlu Manor was situated halfway up the mountain. After sunset, mist rose among the trees, creating a thin veil of fog.
After dinner, they strolled hand-in-hand along the tree-lined path, enveloped in the mist.
Zhen Ning had heard the romantic tale of his parents. His father, while studying at Cambridge, fell in love with a Chinese-Moselan classmate. Due to strict laws requiring royal bloodlines to remain pure, royal members rarely married outside their ethnicity. Yet, despite this, his father married the girl of mixed Moselan and Chinese heritage after graduation, thereby renouncing his second-place position in the line of succession. Zhen Ning asked Du Boqin about this story, and he smiled: “My father only ever loved the military and never intended to step foot in the Carla Palace. The media exaggerated things.”
Zhen Ning recalled: “The newspapers say you’ll be the next king.”
Du Boqin teased: “Then you’ll be the next queen.”
Zhen Ning burst into laughter.
After a moment of quiet thought, she simply asked: “Is the situation stable now?”
Du Boqin replied: “Soon.”
Prince Geoffrey had moved into the Carla Palace, and the prime minister temporarily appointed a minister to assist him with royal affairs until the coronation ceremony.
In winter, the ground at Fanlu Manor was covered with dewy fallen leaves, crunching softly underfoot. Everything was tranquil and serene.
“The incense here at Fanlu is quite good,” Zhen Ning suddenly remembered. “It’s Golden Chrysanthemum, isn’t it? Can you smell it?”
Du Boqin smiled. This fragrance was his mother’s favorite and had been preserved for many years. “You smelled it as soon as we arrived.”
“Ms. Jenny has worked at Fanlu for thirty years and is nearing retirement.”
Due to its abundance of flowers and rare plants, incense-making has long been one of Moselan’s oldest cultural traditions. From the royal Carla Palace to the homes of nobles, each household employed a skilled incense master. However, few residences in Condor could afford Golden Chrysanthemum. Upon stepping into Fanlu, Zhen Ning was captivated by its unique, subtle aroma. Crafting scents with Golden Chrysanthemum was every incense master’s dream.
As Zhen Ning stood lost in thought, she suddenly heard Du Boqin speak beside her: “Zhen Ning, if I proposed to you now, would you think it’s too soon?”
This truly startled her.
Du Boqin gazed at her, his sharp gaze softening slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips: “Miss Shu, could you give me a hint about what style of ring might increase my chances?”
Snapping out of her thoughts, Zhen Ning teased him with a playful grin: “The bigger, the better.”
Du Boqin’s smile deepened: “I will propose to you, and soon. I swear it.”
When Zhen Ning woke up in the morning, sunlight streamed through the window, and it felt as though his kiss still lingered on her pillow. Not even the Christmas holiday could keep him—he had risen early for a meeting.
The night before, they had polished off two bottles of champagne on the terrace of Fanlu Manor, gazing at the night sky. Later, the driver had taken them back to the city.
Lying in bed, Zhen Ning recalled his words: “Zhen Ning, if I proposed to you now, would you think it’s too soon?”
A small smile unconsciously curled her lips.
Such straightforward decisiveness—it was indeed the style of a Silver Wing pilot.
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